


The Great American Whistleblower

by yorkisms



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Faked character death, Journalist!CT, Mild Sexual Content, RvB Secret Santa, Secret Relationship, Spy!Tex, spy AU, whistleblowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkisms/pseuds/yorkisms
Summary: It's ten years after when Tex pulls up on her motorcycle next to a small, unassuming brown car.What she sees in that neighboring vehicle will change everything she thinks she knows about an incident ten years prior.RvB Secret Santa for secretlystephaniebrown who requested Tex/CT hurt comfort!





	The Great American Whistleblower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/gifts).



> Well, merry chrysler, I hope this satsfies.
> 
> I should really write more spy aus, since I had fun with this one.

Ten Years Ago. The National Mall. Washington, DC.

_Midwinter, nighttime. Tex is moving with her gloved hands in her pockets, looking at the lit up monuments as she walks along the path. It's dark enough that dressed in all black as she is, she moves along the mall like a shadow._   
  
_It's not really like she could walk more obviously if she tried. Part of the job. International espionage trains you to move like you're always being followed._   
  
_And Tex knows she is being followed._   
  
_There's an open bathroom area by the air and space museum- closed for the night. Tex ducks in._   
  
_Her follower does the same._   
_  
Tex is leaning up against a stall when the follower enters. She's not scared- Tex is over six lithe feet of powerful, functional muscle. The familiar figure in the doorway is barely five feet of_reporter _._

_"You got my calls," Tex says. The girl in the door nods. The flickering bathroom lights catch her brown hair and eyes. Tex would describe her as mousy at first glance if she didn't know this was one of the most tenacious bitches (term used affectionately) she knows._  
  
_"You think about what I said?" The reporter asks. Tex shrugs, making the leather of her jacket ripple._  
  
_"A bit." Tex pushes off the wall, standing up to her full height. "Look. I would be stupid to think everything we do is legal. That doesn't mean I disagree with all of it."_  
  
_"That's your business. I'm just interested in what your boss does with his little experiments."_  
 _  
"That's where we get along, CT."_

_Tex reaches into her bag and pulls out a disc drive. "He doesn't know I copied these from his personal server."_  
  
_"Did you look at any of them?"_  
 _  
Tex shakes her head slightly. "All yours." Her mouth twitches slightly. "_Only _request is, don't code-name me after a sex move in your extensive exposé. You'd sound like my ex's best friend, and I'd hate for you to lose some of our friendship like that."_

_"Tex," CT replies sincerely, taking the drive. "Knowing you, even only for a few weeks, I can truly say I would never even consider calling you something like 'Deep Throat.' You don't even blow people."_   
_  
"Damn right I don't. You didn't get those from me. You didn't meet me here. Got it?"_

_"Tex."_   
  
_"Yeah."_   
  
_CT moves closer to Tex until it's almost awkward. Almost. Tex stiffens slightly._   
  
_"Consider bringing me more stuff like this?"_   
  
_CT has to crane her neck a bit to meet Tex's eyes. "It's important, Tex. You're quick and quiet. You can get me more important evidence."_   
  
_"I'll think about it," Tex murmurs._   
  
_CT doesn't seem to be playing an angle as she looks at Tex._   
_  
"Think about bringing me more. Before he hurts someone."_

_The next Friday night, Tex is waiting for her in that bathroom with ancient microfilm hidden in a makeup palette and a few fiery kisses._

Present day. An Intersection. Virginia.

Tex has to do a double take when she pulls up next to a brown hatchback at a stop sign.   
  
It's her.   
  
Older, sure, a decade hasn't been kind to either of them. Different. She's changed her hair, Tex notes, enough that Tex almost didn't recognize her. Tex reaches out off her motorbike and taps the window.   
  
CT looks. Gives her a tired smile. Waves.   
  
Tex almost makes a face. She gestures to a diner down the street.

CT nods.

Tex revs her motorcycle as the light turns green, and follows the brown car into the parking lot. She dismounts as she parks her bike, trying not to let it show that her mind is racing.

Tex faces her bike, back to CT, and removes her helmet slowly, thinking.

She turns around to see an older version of the girl she knew from ten years ago.

“Connie, I-”

Tex is cut off by CT standing on the tips of her toes like she used to and kissing Tex softly.

Ten years ago. A Nameless Apartment. Washington, DC.

_The meetings in the bathroom turn into late nights at Tex’s dirty apartment. Tex’s apartment, never CT’s. Tex fears tails, she’s sure to draw suspicion if she walks right to the journalist who’s supposed to be condemning her boss for the illegal stuff they_ **_totally_ ** _don’t do._

_The city lights are passing by one night, and CT, for some reason Tex can’t fathom, has stayed. To her it’s a fling, something that could never possibly last, because they’re both in danger right now, not only trading in highly classified secrets, but sleeping with each other while doing it._

_CT is laying next to her, staring up at the lights of cars from the street passing across the ceiling and vanishing, and then she speaks, softly._

_“You’re not going to get caught, right?”_

_Tex pauses. “No.”_

_She’s confident in this, at least._

_“How do you know that?”_

_“I don’t. But in terms of thieves, I don’t think I’d be their first choice.”_

_“You weren’t even the one I thought would come to me,” CT admits. “I told everyone that something was fishy about your department. I thought it would be Wash. Or York, or even Carolina once she gets disillusioned enough with him. But not you.”_

_“Why not?” Tex asks, curious. CT shrugs._

_“You treat it like a job. I always figured you were an old professional, that you wouldn’t bat an eye at the kinds of war crimes I’m investigating. Or decide your loyalty lies elsewhere.”_

_“I’m a professional, not a demon,” Tex says. “We need some kind of accountability._ **_He_ ** _does. I don’t trust him to keep things from going too far.”_

_“You shouldn’t.”_

_“Why else am I here?”_

_“The sex?” CT asks, a hint of snark in her voice, and Tex snorts._

_“It didn’t hurt.”_

Present Day- A Diner. Virginia.

Tex stares into a mug of black coffee, avoiding the eyes of the woman across from her.

“I thought you were dead.”

Silence.

“We all did.”

“That was the point.”

“Wash and Maine were torn to hell,” Tex says, almost flatly, deliberately avoiding mentioning her own feelings on the topic. “Not just by the article. They would have chosen you over our jobs, I think, after knowing what information I gave you.”

“I know they would have.”

“So what was the point of dropping off the face of the planet without a note and one badly packed bag of shit?” Tex says tightly.

CT looks troubled. “I was getting death threats, Tex. They were serious. So I vanished.”

“You were declared missing-presumed-dead,” Tex replies, trying to keep her voice devoid of emotion. “When did you come back?”

“Six months ago.” CT taps her mug of tea absently with a finger. “I hopped a plane to Oregon. I’ve been living in a cabin in the woods for the last ten years. I came back when the woman I would buy firewood and bullets from commented on his death.”

Tex nods slowly. “He killed himself in prison.”

“How’s Carolina?”

“Bent up is the best phrase. Upset in a few different ways, I guess.”

“And Church?”

“Glad to be rid of the old bastard.” Tex smirks. She does appreciate her ex-boyfriend for that.

“I can’t say I appreciated living in hiding for a decade because of him. So...I suppose speaking ill of the dead is allowed in this case.”

Tex nods appreciatively, raising her mug slightly. “Burn in hell.”

CT agrees, clinking her tea against Tex’s coffee. “Burn in hell.”

Ten years ago. Project Freelancer Home Office. Washington, DC.

_“_ _Miss_ _Tamaro.”_

_CT puts on her best reporter’s smile. “Director Church, thank you for your time, I was wondering if I could get a comment about-”_

_“Did you not see the latest press release from my department?”_

_“Yes sir, but I was wondering if I could get a personal comment on-”_

_“Not at the moment, miss Tamaro.”_

_CT almost growls, gripping her notes. “Mr. Director, what do you say to the allegations that you’re involved in illegal and unethical experimentation on your agents, including your daughter Caroline?”_

_Her opponent narrows his eyes slightly. “_ _Where_ _would you get that idea, miss Tamaro.”_

_“It’s what the evidence increasingly suggests, sir,” CT says, looking at her notes. “According to DHS HR, your department has the highest levels of mental illness, including trauma, dissociation, depression, and anger issues. It’s widely known you perform what you call ‘experimental espionage.’ It’s no stretch to conclude that something might be rotten.”_

_“Get out of my office, miss Tamaro, and reconsider those conclusions.”_

_When CT exits the office, Tex is standing outside, and gives her a questioning look._

_“What are you here for?”_

_“Work.” CT projects confidence. It’s not going to scare her that the old man dug in his heels and insisted that he didn’t do anything wrong._

_Tex shoots her a look. “You know the rule.”_

**_Don’t get caught._ **

_“I know.”_

_Tex looks around, seeing no one, before continuing. “You shouldn’t be here.”_

_“They’ll never catch me now if I did a bit of sneaking,” CT reassures. “Just trust me.”_

_Tex sighs._

_“I didn’t see you.”_

Present Day. A Diner. Virginia.

“You had to go?” Tex asks. She takes a sip of her coffee. “You’re smart. If you say you had to go, I believe you. But I want to hear it from you.”

“I thought I had to. Is that good enough?”

“It is.”

CT nods.

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” Tex asks. “If you found out the old fart died six months back.”

“He’s not the only one who’s not a fan of my work,” CT admits. “Hargrove and Price are still out there. And I need to take them down too.”

Tex pauses. “Do you think you’re going to start writing again?”

CT starts slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

“Do you want a bodyguard?”

The question takes CT by surprise, even more than its predecessor. “I...maybe.”

“You told me, when I was bringing you files from Freelancer, that you liked writing because it was your opportunity to tell everyone who reads your stories the truth about the event. Provide as much information as possible. Expose wrongdoers, call for justice. Don’t you want to keep doing that?”

CT makes an uncomfortable face. “That reward comes at a price, Tex. I know that now.”

Ten years ago. A nameless apartment. Washington, DC.

_CT’s been around Tex enough to notice the tail. At first she’s not sure who’s following her, or why, then she sees a man in a suit. Government, from the looks of it._

_On her door there’s an envelope labeled “Constanzia Tamaro” in neat type._

_CT puts on a surgical mask and gloves before opening it._

_She’s right to worry- something about the letter itself strikes her wrong, she still doesn’t want to remove her gloves and touch it._

_It says very little, again, typed._

> _Tamaro:_
> 
> _You have made a powerful enemy._
> 
> _Make time to regret this before it runs out._

_CT grabs a suitcase and begins throwing her clothes into it._

_Her landline rings halfway through the process. She lets it go to voicemail._

_“CT. It’s me.” Tex._

_“I saw the article. I wanna talk. Call me back.”_

_CT pauses with one hand over the phone, before realizing it’s probably bugged by now- and if hers isn’t, Tex’s sure is._

_So CT finishes throwing some of her favorite clothes into a suitcase and rushes to Dulles International._

Present day. A diner. Virginia.

“Listen, Connie.” Tex sets her drink down. “If you’re going back into the game- taking down a few more corrupt sons of bitches- you aren’t going to be doing that alone. That’s not negotiable.”

Any protest CT has about being called _Connie_ dies in her mouth.

“You want to help.”

“I was top ranked in the Freelancer squad for both unarmed and armed combat, as Carolina would have everyone remember. We worked together to take down Freelancer, too, your writing put the old fart behind bars. We make a good team. And I don’t want you having to pull any more hide out in the forest for a century shit. None of that. Just partners.”

“Partners,” CT says slowly, processing. “You’d still want that. After everything. After you thought I was dead and moved on and after our...uh…”

“Affair,” Tex says airily. “Yes. I do. Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

CT feels her heart wobble a little. She’s pretty sure she would have accepted the other end of the spectrum, where Tex rejected her entirely. She probably _deserves_ it.

But that’s not what Tex is saying. Tex is saying she wants them to take down some corrupt government officials together. For a job.

Maybe it would be nice to go back to whatever it was they had. Pick it up. See what comes.

CT nods. “Partners it is.”

Tex offers her one leather-gloved hand. “Partners.”

CT shakes.

They step outside after they finish their drinks. Tex slides her helmet back on.

“Where to, partner?”

“I’m holed up in a crappy apartment on 4th street. That’s base. Follow me there. Lose tails.”

“Got it.  Let’s go hunt some rats.”

Tex holds her fist up, and CT bumps it with her own.

“Let’s do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: maggie-wittington  
> Twitter, which I really should use more: extraplutonium


End file.
